Now in the soft and silent hour
Which links the dying day to night,
In thankfulness and prayer, before
Thy throne of mercy and of might
Thy creatures see.
The things which perish have all day
Fill'd with care each troubled breast,
And led our wandering thoughts astray ;
The first fruits of our hours of rest
Belong to thee.

Star after star awakens bright
Within the deep vault of the sky,
Like spangles on the robe of night,
The temple of the Deity—
They light for prayer.
Hush'd are the night winds in their caves ;
Sweet flowers are bent with evenins; dew ;
Charm'd to still rest the slumbering waves
Yield thee their silent worship too—
And Thou art here.
Here—in thy mercy and thy love ;
Here—in thy night flowers' fragrant breath ;
Here—in the twinkling star above;
Here—in the silent wave beneath ;
Here—in each heart ;
While lifeless and unconscious things
Thus yield thee up their silent praise,
O let the praise each spirit brings
Be not less pure, less sweet than these ;
Accept our part.

Creator of the beauteous earth !
Great builder of the arched heaven !
Who giv'st to day—to night their birth,
And to the soul of man hast given
To read in these
Thy wisdom, goodness, power, and love.
Though past our trembling lips to speak;
Though far our loftiest thoughts above,
Accept the offering of the weak—
Accept our praise.